Stolen Summer
by bailey80
Summary: A series of stand alone stories meant to be snapshots into Brennan and Christine's summer on the run from the FBI.
1. Chapter 1

"Is anything missing?"

"You mean besides my family?" Booth scowled at the other agent. It was the first time he had spoken since he had let the intruders into their home.

"Have you noticed any possessions that were here earlier that aren't here now?" Flynn restated his question.

"No."

"Perhaps you'd humor me by getting up and looking?"

Booth shot a glare in Flynn's direction, than stood up and began to survey the Mighty Hut. A quick glance around the living room didn't turn up anything out of order. He walked into the kitchen,; Christine's high chair was still exactly where they'd left it when they'd left for the christening. Crumbs from the baby biscuit Bones had fed her still littered the tray. Their coffee cups from that morning were still in the kitchen sink, the rug he had slid on in a rush to call Caroline earlier in the day was still lying slightly out of place.

He walked up the stairs, Agent Flynn close behind. Nothing seemed missing from Christine's room, except for the items he had packed in her diaper bag before they left for the church. If Bones had taken anything extra for the baby, he couldn't spot it.

Leading the other agent through their bedroom seemed like a betrayal but he knew what had to be done. Their bed was still made, pillows and blankets still as they'd left them.; lying where they had been precisely placed that morning with when Brennan had made the bed, taunting him with the realization that he didn't know how long it might be before he crawled into their safety with his partner in his arms again. The realization that he didn't know how long it might be until he held her against him, safely under the covers, taunted him and he had to struggle to look at the rest of the room.

Everything was gone. But, no, nothing seemed missing.

Until he walked into their bathroom.

He didn't have any intention of telling the agent if he did find something that had been removed, but he was unable to hide his initial shock when he realized the only physical item that Bones had taken with her.

"What is it?"

Booth spoke before he thought. "My shirt is gone."

He was still walking around the bathroom with a confused look on his face as Agent Flynn cleared his throat. "What's significant about this shirt?"

"Hell if I know. It's an old Flyers t shirt that I like to sleep in. I laid it on the shelf when I got into the shower this morning."

"You don't know why she would've taken your shirt? It isn't some sort of message as to where she went?"

"Maybe. I've told you already, I do not know where Dr. Brennan or our daughter is. And for the record, the last time I saw her she was not under arrest and she had no plans to run. For all I know, Pelant has her."

"I know better than that. You're way too calm."

Booth snorted, "I've cooperated fully with you and your men. Now unless I'm under arrest I want you out of my house."

"Fine. But just so we're clear, you are not to leave the jurisdiction Agent Booth. And if Dr. Brennan tries to contact you, we'll know before you do. Technology can be a bitch."

"You trying to be ironic?" Booth asked.

Flynn didn't answer, already distracted with his cell phone. Booth could hear him ordering field agents to the Philadelphia area. But Booth knew better than that; no way would Brennan have left such an obvious clue. And there was no way Max would have directed her into a major metro area, Max wasn't the hide in plain sight type fugitive.

* * *

Somewhere just west of the Appalachians, Temperance Brennan was settling into an uncomfortably hard motel room bed with her daughter. She curled herself tightly into a ball and tucked the baby into the small space left between her knees and her forehead. The exhaustion of the day catching caught up with her as she finally allowed her body to rest; tears dripped unchecked from her eyes and onto her daughter's soft curls. She found that she no longer had the will to hold them back. Her breaths were coming in deep sobs and silent hitches and she fought to keep the noise away enough to allow Christine to sleep. With each hiccup she found herself pulling her arms tighter around the baby, her hands grasping and releasing the infant's night gown almost as if under their own volition.

Every noise outside made her jump with the fear that they had been found. Images of Christine being torn violently from her arms filled her mind and she struggled desperately to push them away. As she started to panic she began to focus on Christine's impromptu pajamas. The baby had her hands balled in tiny fists, clutching the fabric as if it were some sort of lifeline. The gown was much too large, and Brennan fixed the sleeve as it yet again came unrolled from the eight or so folds she had had to create to make it even begin to fit the tiny girl. Her feet hadn't come close to peeking out from underneath of the gown, until Brennan used a hair band to secure the extra fabric into a knot at the baby's side.

But right now it didn't matter that they had to improvise. It didn't matter that Christine's makeshift gown was old, and used and so worn that in places it was even torn. Right now that old, grey t-shirt was the closest thing to Booth they had, and it would just have to work.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't cry as she drove away.

Not even when she heard Booth shouting her name.

She didn't cry when she passed their home on her way out of town.

She didn't cry when Christine cried all the way from Baltimore to Cumberland.

She didn't cry when she heard "Hot Blooded" blaring through the car speakers, as if the universe was kicking her while she was down.

She didn't cry when as she settled into bed and realized it was the first night she hadn't spent in his arms since Vincent Nigel Murray had been killed.

She didn't cry when she saw a news story about her that got all of the facts wrong.

She didn't cry when a picture of Parker fell out of her purse as she searched for the baby's other pacifier.

She didn't cry when Christine fell asleep and left her all alone.

She didn't cry when she heard the knock on the hotel room door.

When she thought that the person on the other side would surely be waiting with hand cuffs and angry eyes.

But when she saw Russ Brennan standing in the doorway instead, well then she was afraid that she might never stop crying again.


	3. Chapter 3

Week five was when the depression set in. She plunged into a hole so deep and so dark, the possibility of seeing the light of day ever again seemed bleak. Only her daughter's needs would coax her out of her cocoon and even then she went through the tasks with a zombie like expression and near mechanical movements.

Max had never seen his daughter act in such a way. Russ Brennan had. Her actions mirrored those of the days and weeks after their parents first left. There had been nothing he could say, nothing he could do that would reach her. He knew better than to try now. Sometimes you just had to let Temperance be. Russ knew that it was only after he left, after she was forced to face life without anyone to support her, or care for her, that she rallied. Only then that she became the self-reliant, self –sufficient woman who had struggled her way through foster families, high school, and college and eventually became the world famous Dr. Temperance Brennan. Watching his sister the last few days he didn't say any trace of that woman at all. Instead he saw the little girl he had tried and failed to coax into celebrating Christmas with him all those years ago.

He tried to imagine a situation that would cause her to rally now. But this time things were different. This time Russ had to agree that there was nothing Tempe could do to fight her way out of this situation. They could only wait. And that waiting was killing his sister.

* * *

"Get out of bed Tempe." Max's voice was deep and demanding.

"Is Christine crying?" Brennan's voice was flat and weak.

"No."

She didn't answer. She simply rolled over in the small bed and faced one of the four dingy walls that had become her prison.

Max ventured further into the room. "You need to get up. What happened to your spark? You desire to catch this creep?"

Her voice was muffled by the pillows. "I'm smart enough to know when I am effectively beaten. There is nothing that I can accomplish from my current position."

"That's not true."

He had kneeled down in front of her, staring into her eyes waiting on a response. He was rewarded with only a glare.

Max stood and paced the room as he searched for the words to coax out of her trance she was in. "Okay, it is true. You won't accomplish anything with your head buried in that pillow for twenty hours a day. Maybe if you were actually awake an idea might pop into that brilliant mind of yours."

"I have no desire to get out of bed."

"At least come and eat something. You didn't do that yesterday." He paused. "Or the day before."

Another glare. "I'm not hungry."

"I can't take you back to Booth thirty pounds lighter. He really would kill me then."

"I find myself thinking that I'll never see Booth again."

Max's heart broke for his child. He understood. Something not many people could say in this situation. But he couldn't allow her to continue this way. This time when he spoke he did nothing to disguise the anger in his voice.

"Fine. You believe what you want. But I'm here and I'm trying to help you. Your brother left his children to come and help you. Booth and your friends are breaking their necks back in DC doing whatever they can to clear your name and bring you home. And your daughter is out there in that living room with her uncle wondering what the hell is wrong with her mommy. So get your ass out of that bed and come talk to her."

This time the glare was covered over by her tears.

Her voice was thick with emotion. "I just want to sleep. Please Dad just for a little while longer."

"Tempe …"

"Booth comes to me when I sleep. He holds me. I don't want to leave him, Dad. Please just let us sleep."

Max sat down behind her, for the first time afraid that his daughter might really be losing her mind. He started to speak, to stroke her back, but then he retreated. He left her alone with her dreams and he returned to the living room with renewed desire to punish this bastard for what he had done.

"Think you'll be okay here with them?"

Russ' eyebrows rose as he watched his father pack up and head toward the front door. "Where are you headed?"

"To get Tempe's life back." He opened the door and called back, "Make her eat."

They didn't see Max again for five days.

And week six. Well week six was when everything changed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I want to write more of these little snippets so if you guys can think of anything you'd like to read please send me a prompt! This snippet was inspired by Frankie and her prompt "thunderstorms." I'd love to be able to write several of these a week so the more prompts the better. Send them on and I'll try my best! Thanks to NatesMama for the super quick beta job! _

* * *

She had always hated thunderstorms.

She could remember nights as a child when she'd lie covered up to her nose in bed, jumping each time a crack of thunder filled the night air. Flinching every time a flash of lightning sparked through the window and illuminated her room. But without fail, her father would open her door and, seeing that she was awake, he'd walk into the room with a casual comment about anything but the weather. He never acted like he knew that she was scared. And with him in the room, she wasn't.

Until the first night that it stormed after her parents left. Russ didn't know that she was afraid. And he didn't know that he was supposed to come into her room to calm her down. At the first shutter rattling gust of wind she ran into his room instead. It only took a simple, "I'm scared" for Russ to allow his little sister to crawl into his bed. After that he knew that she was afraid of thunderstorms. But it didn't matter, because by the next thunderstorm, he was already gone.

None of her foster parents cared that she was afraid of thunderstorms. Not even the ones that she finally worked up the nerve to tell; they'd simply laughed. And especially not the ones who had left her locked in the trunk of a car during a thunderstorm. She had held her hands over her ears and shivered with fear as hail pounded on the trunk. She wished that her father were there to talk to her but she knew it was a foolish wish. It was inside of that trunk that she had promised herself that she would never rely on another human being to calm her fears again.

There had been storms in the jungle while she was on digs. There were storms in Maluku when she was searching for the origins of humanity with Daisy. She was still afraid of those storms but she was amongst colleagues and had not broken out of her professional, "Dr. Temperance Brennan" mode. Her insides were shaking but she refused to tell anyone about her fears. She had learned her lesson and she knew that she could not always depend on someone else to get her through.

But then there was the night at Booth's apartment that it had stormed. The thunder had woken her, but Booth was still snoring softly. She slipped unnoticed from his bed to check the weather channel. Convinced that the storm was not severe and would soon pass, she tried to go back to sleep. But sleep wouldn't come so she sat up in bed and pulled her knees underneath her chin, holding them with her hands.

She chided herself for being afraid. She was too old, too intelligent and too successful to be rendered immobile by a simple scientific principle such as thunder. She reasoned with herself as she kept an eye on Booth, hoping that he'd remain asleep. Only he didn't. It started with a yawn, then he turned over in bed and finally his eyes opened when he sensed that she wasn't lying beside of her. And when he sat up and found her there, sitting in bed looking everything like a frightened little girl he grinned. "Don't like storms, huh?"

She hadn't answered him then and just like her dad before, he knew that she didn't want to talk about it. Instead he had sat up with her and started to talk about the case that they were working. As the storm passed she settled into his arms and thanked him. They had never talked about it again. There wasn't any reason. Any time it would storm she would roll as close to him as possible, snuggling against him as he slept. Unless he woke up, in which case he'd hold her and they'd talk until the thunder slowly faded out of ear shot.

She wondered if Booth knew that it was storming where she was now. She wanted to know if he was thinking about her. If he knew that she was afraid. She clung to Christine, holding her tighter each time the thunder would boom and shake their dinky hotel room. For her part, the baby would occasionally open an eye to glare at her mother, squinting up at her as if to say, "Please just go to sleep Mom."

This was the third night it had stormed since they had left DC and Brennan was considering asking her dad to consult the Weather Channel before making his next city selection. Her nerves were already shot from being a fugitive, the thunder was an annoyance she could do without. She gripped Booth's shirt, which she had swaddled the baby in every night since they had ran and breathed in his scent. If she closed her eyes and pretended hard enough she could almost feel his arms wrapped around them both.

As she lay there in that cheap hotel room, listening as the rain pounded against the air-cooling window unit, and the thunder began to move further and further away, she realized that she had done the very thing that she had promised herself that she never would. She had allowed herself to rely on Booth. But, much to her own surprise, that thought didn't make her sad.

Because unlike her father, she knew that Booth was waiting for her. She smiled, knowing that just maybe, by the next time she found herself awake and afraid during a thunderstorm that she would be able to roll over and shelter herself in his warmth. That thought was just what she needed to give her the courage to get her through the storm.


	5. Chapter 5

It happened too fast.

It happened before she could stop it. Before she could say no.

She had thought that she'd have more time. That something like this would build to its crescendo. She never imagined that it would happen like this.

But it did.

Before she could blink. Before she could grab her. Before she could even move.

Brennan accidently bumped into the bed. And she watched as the bunny fell and landed on the carpet, approximately twenty feet from where Christine sat. And she watched as her daughter's eyes fixated on her bunny. But before she could retrieve the bunny, Christine acted first.

She crawled.

Her daughter crawled to get her bunny.

And Brennan cried.

She cried as she watched her daughter deftly lift her little rump in the air and propel her weight forward with her hands, her tiny knees following quickly behind her.

She cried as Christine laughed out loud upon reaching her prized bunny. Cried harder when her daughter looked back as if to say, "Look what I can do Mom!"

She clapped and lifted the baby in the air in celebration. But just because that felt like the right action to take after something like this. It was what all the books recommended to garner self-esteem.

She smiled as a reward for her daughter's efforts, even though tears still shone in her own eyes.

Why couldn't Christine wait? Just one more day. Or one more week. Maybe, just one more month.

But of course she couldn't wait. They had always known that their daughter was very advanced. She couldn't wait. They didn't know how long it might be. She had no right to ask her to wait. Not for this milestone and not for any of the ones to follow.

Christine struggled to get down from her mother's arms and Brennan sighed even as she finally relented and placed her back on the floor. She watched her daughter practice her newfound skill over and over again. Squealing in delight with each trip across the room, the small stuffed bunny held firmly between her teeth. Its little legs dragging the floor, the baby's slobber soaking its ear.

"Fine, you may crawl. But do not begin to ambulate until we are reunited with your father."

And even though she felt foolish, she could've sworn that the baby nodded.

She could only hope that Booth could forgive them both.


	6. Chapter 6

_I'd like to take the time to thank everyone for reading these little snippets! I'm having a lot of fun writing them. And I've never asked for reviews and I never will, BUT I do ask that you please leave me a prompt for this series. I really want to expand on these little angsty one shots and I'd love to write thirty before the premiere. That's just 69 days away (thanks to NatesMama for the countdown!), by the way._

_So please, leave me a prompt or a line or even a word and let me see what I can do with it! I promise to try to make a story out of every single suggestion._

_Okay, begging for inspiration out of the way, I have to thank Frankie for this one. And I should warn it may have more angst than even I'm used to writing._

* * *

Parker came home from London on July 1st.

It was just in time for the holiday. They opened the hatch of the Sequoia and sat in the back as fireworks boomed and reflected over the Potomac. Just like they had the year before, when Brennan had been pregnant with Christine. Tradition was important to Booth.

He was home for his birthday. There were candles to blow out and songs to sing and a celebratory strawberry ice cream at The Royal Diner. Because it was Parker's favorite flavor once again. There was a new bike to buy. A larger bike. After all, Parker was thirteen now.

Booth took as many days off as he could the month that Parker was there. There were games of catch beneath the lights on their street. And there was that night at the drive in movie that had opened up in Arlington.

There were days spent in the Jeffersonian's summer program. There were beakers to be blown up and bones to be learnt. Parker could now name most all the bones on sight.

There were trips to see Pops and photo albums to look through. The three generations of Booth all gathered around, the younger hearing new stories, the middle relishing old memories.

There were video games to be mastered by both father and son. New memories to be made while ribbing one another during friendly competition.

Parker was only home for a month and Booth made every day count. Every day was filled with as much activity and promise as he could muster.

Except that it wasn't.

Except that Parker didn't get to come home at all.

Because it wasn't safe.

Because Booth had found the video footage, and he knew.

He knew that Pellant had been in their home. That he had invaded their Mighty Hut.

And he knew that he couldn't risk having his son near him.

So instead he spent July inside a bottle.

But he reasoned that it was okay. He could still function and he knew he would be able to easily set it aside. Later.

Besides it wasn't his vice. He had never been a drunk. And he hadn't placed a bet since the night of their first kiss.

No, Temperance Brennan was the only thing he was addicted to. And he was no longer sure if he could survive the withdrawals.

This summer was supposed to be special. It was Christine's first. It was their first as a family.

But Pellant was ruining everything.

He sat on the couch and missed his son. Took another sip from his beer and missed his daughter. Stared into space and missed his partner. Her words ringing over and over again inside of his head.

"I don't want Pellant to change our lives. That would be the worst."

And as always, she was right. This was definitely the worst.


	7. Chapter 7

It was over.

She had seen it. She had seen it on CNN, Fox and MSNBC. The headlines had all been the same.

"Fugitive author Temperance Brennan has been cleared on all charges related to the death of former mathematics professor Ethan Sawyer."

She was ready to pack. Ready to get in the car and drive back to her life, but Max stopped her.

He told her that it wasn't over.

She was confused; the news had said "all charges."

But Max said they couldn't take information from a third party too literally. Did that mean that they wouldn't be pursuing charges for evasion either?

No, Max said. No, they couldn't return until they were sure. He needed to put a deal in place before she came out of hiding. It was the only way.

She watched as he pulled a cell phone out of thin air and disappeared into the woods behind their tiny cottage speaking in hushed tones.

Four months had felt like an eternity and now she feared the next few days might feel twice as long.

She had never even considered that there still might be charges to answer to. That there still might be a price to be paid. That she might have to spend time in jail.

Time away from her family.

She lay back on the bed beside of her daughter. Her daughter who had spent the entire day practicing her new found skill.

Christine had found her voice recently and she was currently using it to happily repeat "Da, da, da, da, da" over and over again. Rhythmically so that it sounded as if she were singing.

Ten of thousands of sounds that her child could've chosen to learn first but she had chosen the only one certain to send little daggers of pain through Brennan's heart each time it was spoken.

"Soon Christine. Soon. You'll be with your Da."

The baby continued to happily babble away, repeating her favorite sound even louder now that she felt her mother was encouraging her.

She straightened the baby's tiny sock and sighed. "I can only hope that I will be able to join you."


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: Thank you all for the amazing reviews! I am mesmerized by the amount of attention these little stories are getting. For those of you who have left prompts, I promise they will be written this week. I loved all your ideas!_**

**_Wanted to point out that these stories are not related and they are not in any order. In other words, just because Booth and Brennan reunite here doesn't mean that it's over. Tomorrow's story may be set back at the beginning of their separation. I'm just writing these as the ideas come to me and not planning out any type of timeline._**

**_Thanks again for reading and yes, the angst fairy is visiting again. My apologizes to Brennan, she really has been suffering in these little tales. _**

* * *

Their reunion started with a look. A realization that they were finally standing face to face again. Next came a dazed walk as they unconsciously moved toward one another as if being pulled by an invisible rope.

Then there was an embrace. An embrace that was desperate and fierce, his hands digging into her sides, her fingers clawing at his shoulders. Their tears dripping onto each other's backs.

But then it was over. She had started to apologize and he had told her to stop.

He didn't want to talk about it.

She knew he was angry. She had never seen him this angry.

With one quick peck on her check he was gone. He said he needed space. Time. He was too angry to talk right now.

That's when she had broken down. Had collapsed to her knees in the middle of The Jeffersonian. Because the only thing she needed was for him to understand. Because the last thing she wanted to hear was that he was too angry to speak to her, too angry to hold her and offer her the comfort she had been craving for four months. Because she felt betrayed by the brief moments spent back in his arms.

It was Cam that knelt down beside of her, and cocooned her in the warmth and comfort of her embrace. Trying to assure her that it would be okay. He'd be back. It was all just too much for him to handle. His emotions too difficult for him to understand. She promised that he really did know why she left. He knew that it had been the only way.

They sat on the floor for what felt like hours, Brennan's sobs echoing throughout the empty lab. Cam's whispered reassurances not being heard by anyone, not even their intended audience.

Booth watched, unseen, from the shadows. Thankful that his friend could be there for his partner when he couldn't. He watched them and his anger began to fade. But just as he started to approach them he realized that he just couldn't let go of it yet.

No, she hadn't trusted him. She had taken his daughter. She had stolen their summer. He just wasn't ready to forgive her.

And so instead of running back to her and lifting her off of the floor, instead of making it all better, he simply turned and walked away.


	9. Chapter 9

Written from a prompt given by FaithInBones ... "a baby he doesn't know says Da Da to him in a store." Hope you like it Faith! I'll try to write your other prompt next. :) Anyone else?

* * *

He had been in the grocery store when it happened. He had just stopped in aisle three, mesmerized by the frosted animal crackers.

Christine and Bones both loved those cookies. Together they could devour an entire box within an hour. As he stood there, he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or to cry.

He was broken from his trance by the sound of a little girl from across the aisle.

"Da," the tiny child was repeating as she looked at him, her chubby cheeks filled with laughter as she babbled. Booth subconsciously returned the smile and when the baby reached for him, he instinctively reached back.

The child's mother was startled when she saw him reaching for her baby. She recoiled and placed her arms around her child protectively. The frightened look on her face made Booth realize what he was doing and he quickly recovered. He tried to turn his reach into a wave instead.

"I'm sorry she just reminded me of my daughter and, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Booth shook his head repeatedly, internally scolding himself for what he had done. This wasn't his daughter. No, his daughter was … he stopped, unable to even form the words inside of his mind.

His daughter was gone.

His daughter was with her mother.

She was on the run.

Hiding from a serial killer.

But she would be home soon.

And she was fine.

She just wasn't here.

Christine just wasn't with him.

None of the phrases seemed to work so he didn't explain, but he didn't need to. The child's mother seemed satisfied that he was harmless. "No, I overreacted. I'm sorry."

She offered a smile and walked away, her child calling "Da, Da, Da" all the while.

Booth grabbed the pink bag of cookies from the shelf and placed it in his cart.

He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.


	10. Chapter 10

Booth had started it the first month.

He'd come home with three cupcakes. Brennan eyed him suspiciously as he presented one to their daughter. Who, of course, had been entirely too young to do anything except focus her eyes on the brightly colored frosting.

Brennan thought it was a first step down a slippery route to spoiling their child. Booth, reminding her it the proper term was "slippery slope," informed her that in the first year, every month was a birthday.

And that he didn't plan to miss a single one of them.

By month three she was secretly looking forward to their ritual. And by month six, when the baby was advanced enough to make a mess while attempting to rid her chubby fingers of icing, she had given up any pretense of displeasure.

And on Christine's eighth month birthday she found herself driving to the local bakery in their newest small town and requesting two cupcakes. A calculated risk she knew but she had decided it was well worth it.

"Just two cupcakes hon?"

The plump cashier's question shook her from her daydream and she hoped her sad demeanor didn't make her a memorable customer.

"Actually, make it three."

This month they'd just have to enjoy Booth's cupcake for him.


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Again I have been remiss and forgotten to give someone credit for a prompt. I really need to start writing these down somewhere. :)**_

**_But this idea came from FaithinBones and her prompt, "Waking up from a nightmare without his/her arms there to comfort them." Love it! And I hope you love what I did with it! _**

**_(Also if I've forgotten to give anyone else credit please yell at me in a PM and I'll send you credit and virtual cookies, k?)_**

* * *

Some of the nightmares were old.

Being trapped in a car underneath twenty feet of West Virginia dirt.

Dropping a dish and hearing it shatter, over and over again.

Hannah saying yes to Booth's marriage proposal.

Running through her old house in Chicago screaming for her mother.

Her brother lying in a pool of blood in her kitchen floor.

Some of the nightmares were new.

Christine being taken from her.

Vincent Nigel Murray bleeding out beneath her shaking hands.

Her dad dying.

Hearing a doctor tell her that Booth didn't back it this time.

Being locked in a jail cell for a crime she didn't commit.

The only true constant was that now when she awoke; breathless, shivering and terrified. She was alone.

And waking without him there. Without his perfectly sculpted arms wrapped around her. Waking up without him just meant waking up to a whole new nightmare. To the nightmare that she currently living. The one that she feared she would never be able to wake up from.


	12. Chapter 12

"_The delphinidae delphis, when under severe stress or in panic, may fall back to the behavior of their early ancestors and run to shore to find safety."_

It was rare to see dolphins close to the Carolina shore. But they were here this morning.

She sat on the front deck of her brother's beach front home. Her dad had declared it safe to spend a few nights here now that Russ had been cleared of all suspicion of aiding in her escape. She watched as a pod of the turquoise colored animals swam within feet of the sand.

She didn't believe in signs. The last time she had allowed herself to believe, things had not ended in the manner in which she'd hoped. But Max insisted the appearance of the dolphins was a sign.

"A sign of what significance Dad?"

"They're a sign from your mother. A sign of reassurance."

"Ludicrous."

"Then think of them as a sign from Booth."

"So signs can come from not only the dead but also from the living? How exactly does Booth have the power to send wild life to metaphorically speak to me?"

"You're too literal. Look, it's just a sign. From Mom, from Booth, from fate. From whomever or whatever. Stop analyzing it."

He kissed her on the forehead and walked back inside.

She would never believe in "signs." However she couldn't keep herself from recalling what she knew about the habits of dolphins.

That they mimicked the actions of their ancestors when they were in trouble.

Just as she had.

Of course she didn't imagine many dolphins had bank robbing con men that were adept at evading prosecution for ancestors, either.

The second morning she fiddled with her mother's ring and reminded herself that dolphins must be conscious to breathe. Focusing on minute details allowed her to pretend that the reappearance of this link to her mother wasn't giving her pause.

She watched the members of the pod swim to the surface to draw breath. She reminded herself to just keep breathing. At times that felt like the only thing she could do in this situation. To slowly swim her way up for air, working her way through the sinking despair of her current reality in the same manner that the dolphins worked through way through the murky waters of the Atlantic.

And when the mysterious creatures appeared again the third morning she decided that she just might believe in signs after all.


	13. Chapter 13

**_AN: I posted this earlier and forget to credit JBCFlyers19 for giving me the prompt. The idea was amazing and perfect and I loved it. This story would not have existed without her suggestion and I apologize for not giving her the shout out earlier! Thank you a million times over for this idea, it was such a good idea and I'm glad that you liked what I did with it!_**

**_Anyone else that has any requests I'd be happy to hear them! Slowly working my way toward 32. And we don't have *that* much longer until September 17th. :)_**

* * *

Angela didn't think about it. She didn't consider the implications until it was too late.

There's a break in the case. A chance. A possibility that cannot wait. So she rushes from the room to pursue the new evidence and tosses her son, quite literally, toward the nearest trust-worthy adult.

Booth.

A brief look of surprise crossed his features but his arms gripped the baby with the practiced ease of a father. He quickly adjusted to the pain that he felt while holding an infant for the first time since his was taken from him.

Hodgins shot a concerned glance in his direction then followed his wife out of the room as Booth gave him a reassuring nod.

Booth took a moment to study the wiggly baby in his arms. Nearly seven months older than Christine, he thought about how much Michael's features had changed since birth. The boy babbling in his arms today bore no resemblance to the tiny bundle wearing a ridiculous hat that Hodgins had presented them over a year ago.

He resents that Hodgins felt the need to walk on egg shells around him. Even if he understood the reasoning.

He wasn't that fragile though. And he sure as hell couldn't break. He had already shattered into pieces the night he had watched his family drive away from him.

"Baby group isn' t nearly as much fun without Christine, huh?"

Michael watched him intently and made incoherent sounds as if attempting to carry on a conversation. "She'll be back soon enough. Then you two can play again. She's getting bigger now too, I suppose."

His voiced hitched, "I wonder how much bigger. She's probably gained at least four or five pounds by now. Probably starting to become mobile. She's getting to that age. Parker was about her age when he started crawling. When did you start to crawl, huh?"

He was met by a blank stare as if the baby was trying to recall when he did start to crawl but couldn't quite come up with the exact date.

"You're already saying Mom and Dad. Have been for a while, haven't you? God, I hope she isn't already talking. It's too early though. We still have some time."

He bounced Michael on his knee causing the infant to squeal out in laughter. It was nearly impossible to keep a bad attitude in the situation and even Booth found himself feeling more optimistic.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I do miss all those things. All that matters is that they're safe. Bones and Christine are safe. Wherever they are. As long as she still remembers me when she gets back. That's all that I'm worried about. I can handle the rest."

He paused to look around the office. Clark Edison has been acting as interim Chief Forensic Anthropologist in Brennan's absence but to his credit, the man hadn't changed a thing. All Brennan's pictures were still there and Booth had to physically tear his eyes away from a photograph of her with Parker and Christine that sat on her desk.

"What does Bones say about the anthropological significance of babies under the age of one bonding with their fathers? I listen to her; I hear every word she says. I just don't always understand her. I think she said that it was important but small absences are important for the men to hunt and gather and children grow from having fathers who protect them more than from having fathers who were always present. That sounds right, doesn't it?"

Michael giggled at Booth's funny face.

"Well you still remember me and you don't see me that often. That may not be scientific but I'll go with it. And Christine is very bright. She won't forget. Will she?"

Booth watched his audience carefully, the boy had found Booth's cuff link and was desperately trying to rip it from his suit jacket. "No, she won't forget."

"Your eyes used to be lighter, didn't they? I wonder if Christine's eyes are even still blue. I know Bones said they'd change color but I can't remember when she said it would happen. Parker's hair got darker too. I wonder if Christine's is still blonde. Maybe it's darker now. More like Parker's and mine. And her mom's. Yeah, if her looks have changed any I just hope that she looks more like her mom now."

He stopped to change Michael to his other knee, the boy's weight getting heavy on his leg. "I wonder if her cheeks are still chubby. They are, right? It's way too soon to lose that baby fat. She may not still like that stuffed monkey though. Kids change favorite stuffed animals all the time. She may have a new toy that she likes now. I can accept that."

"I just miss her. I miss both of them. And I know that Bones misses me too. But is Christine old enough to remember? Does she miss me? Or does she not even realize that I'm not there? Maybe I should google some of this stuff."

Angela walked quietly back into the room. "You two okay in here?"

"Yeah, just having a little man to man talk."

He smiled as he handed the baby back.

"We're going to bring them home Booth."

"I know."

"We all love them. I promise that no one is giving up. We're going to make this right."

"I know."

"We love you too, Big Guy. Hang in there."

"I have to Ang. What other choice do I have?"

She nodded and did the only thing she knew to do. She hugged him. And he hugged her back. Both of them needing the comfort of a friend.

He turned to leave but Angela stopped him. "Booth. I promise you that your little girl is missing you."

He smiled and nodded his head then he left Angela standing in Brennan's office holding her son. And he returned to his house.

Alone.


	14. Chapter 14

He was sitting on the bed when she finished with her shower. Christine sound asleep at his feet.

She glanced in his direction, only briefly, before heading to the chair that sat beside a small side table in the room.

Unsure.

But it only took a nod and a whispered, "C'mere," to make her change direction.

She climbed into the bed and in an instant she collapsed against his side. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. The smell of her damp hair lingered in his nose as he inhaled her scent.

He laid his head against hers and just breathed her in for a moment. Happy to have her in his arms again. Their breathing quickly falling into sync. Their hearts beginning to beat in the same rhythm.

She burrowed her head into his chest.

He let his hands roam around her body. Feeling the tightness in her muscles near her shoulder blades. The sharp angles of her ribs. The protrusion of her hip bone. The subtle roundness of her lower abdomen, the residual fullness that still remained from carrying their child. His hand roamed down her thigh, her pale skin warm under his touch.

He took her hand in his and traced the line of each digit. Then he let his thumb rub against the soft padding of her palm. As he finished his tour, he brought her hand up to his mouth and placed quiet kisses along each knuckle.

Relishing each sense.

Each touch.

Each heartbeat.

Her voice was tentative, quiet like a shy child afraid of being reprimanded by their parents. "Are you angry?"

"Yeah." His voice was gruff, short and to the point.

"But you came to find us?"

He lifted his head to look at her but she kept her face turned into his chest. Unwilling to meet his gaze.

"I couldn't take it anymore. I've been through hell this summer. I finally had you. I had Christine. I had everything that I ever wanted. And then it just all vanished. So, yes, I'm angry."

"I haven't dealt well with our separation either. At times, as unscientific as it sounds, I even found it hard to draw a breath."

"I'm sorry Bones. If I could change any of this . . ."

She cut him off. Confused. "But this is my fault. Not yours. You don't need to apologize. I need to apologize. I need to make this right. Somehow."

"This isn't your fault. This is Pellant's fault. I won't listen to you blame yourself for this. So just stop." His voice was louder than he intended and their daughter stirred in her sleep.

She finally turned in his arms enough to see his face. "I need to know that you're going to be okay."

"I'm not okay. But it's fine. Because there's no me. There's no you. There's only us now. Okay? And this. . . This whole mess? It isn't going to destroy us. It might have brought me to my knees. And it may have broken you. But it's nothing to us. Nothing can break us."

"Normally I'd find such a statement disturbing and unacceptable to my sense of independence as a highly successful female. But right now I find that assessment to be quite comforting."

And for that first night back together, and all the nights that followed, they both found comfort in one another's touch.

* * *

For threesquares. I hope this is everything you hoped it would be. Thank you for all your kind words. :)

And thanks to Jaime for the insanely quick beta job. You rock chick!


	15. Chapter 15

The first picture arrived exactly one week after they left.

Christine.

In a blue jumper, smiling at the camera. A striped headband poking out from between her blonde curls.

The next arrived three weeks later.

One month into their separation.

Again, it was just Christine.

It was always just the baby.

Never Brennan.

"Too risky." He could imagine Max saying.

Sometimes they came in text messages from untraceable cell phones.

He informed the FBI.

He had to keep up appearances. He had to make them think that he was on their side.

Sometimes they arrived in unmarked envelopes. Left anonymously at his office. Or at The Jeffersonian. Or on the doorstep of their home.

The ones he found at home, he didn't tell anyone about.

His phoned dinged with an incoming message and he looked up from his stack of endless paper work to see a picture of his daughter. Standing by a bed.

Standing.

Holding on to someone's hand. He assumed her mother's but he couldn't be sure. But still. She was standing.

And it broke his heart. Because she couldn't do that when they left.

She was moving on.

Without him.

He looked at another picture of his children. One that sat on his desk. A picture of Parker holding Christine in his lap. He wished that he could print the picture that had just arrived on his phone. So that he could frame it as well.

But he couldn't.

Because these pictures were evidence.

He only had pictures from before.

Because this was their life now. Before and after.

He memorized the picture. The baby's face. Her tiny nose. Her mother's eyes. Her toothless grin.

Then he stood. And he took the picture to Hacker.

Confident that it was safe. That Max had all his bases covered. That this was exactly what Max intended for him to do.

Because this was their now. Their after. Her working outside of the lines. And him working within them.

And the sight of his daughter was just enough to propel him through yet another lonely day.


	16. Chapter 16

He bought the cupcake from the same baker.

The same sweet, white haired old lady waited on him.

She had remembered him. She always did.

He had gotten the same flavor.

Blueberry.

He had gotten the same size.

He had asked for the same princess themed design.

And so, when he returned home, he half expected Brennan and Christine to be home waiting for him.

Because he had done everything exactly the same.

Shouldn't that have been enough?

He took quite a while wrapping the cupcake in tin foil and storing it in their refrigerator.

So it would be there.

Whenever.

He did the same the next month.

And the month after that.

Eventually he stopped opening the freezer door. Because it was too much. The image of the uneaten cupcakes too painful.

But he knew they'd be home soon.

And the cupcakes would be waiting when they got there.

And he'd be glad that he had gotten them.

Because there was going to be a lot of celebrating to catch up on.

* * *

_For the lovely and talented someonetookmyname. Hope you enjoyed this one my cupcake baking friend. _


	17. Chapter 17

Pelant's voice taunted him from his television screen.

His smirk, even while in hand cuffs, was confident and vomit inducing. Booth paused the shot and studied the man's face. He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat.

The squints had recovered enough evidence to re-arrest Pelant on numerous charges. Including breaking into Booth and Brennan's home and planting explosive materials.

Had Pelant managed to take his family away permanently he didn't think he would have been able to continue living himself.

As it was Pelant had taken his girls away from him for too long.

The arrest warrant was still out for Brennan. But he didn't care.

Booth took one more look at the smug face staring back at him.

And he made a decision.

He wasn't going to wait any longer.

He was going to bring his family home.


	18. Chapter 18

It started with a look.

Then an "accidental" touch in the hall.

And when he didn't seem to notice. Because he truly didn't notice. She struck up a conversation.

He wasn't polite. Not at all. He was gruff. His mind clearly elsewhere. Too preoccupied for small talk.

But she made her move anyway. He was too tall, his shoulders too well developed, for her to pass up. He was Seeley Booth. He was a legend in this building.

A gentle caress of his forearm while he was pouring his morning coffee.

His glare should have warned her.

But she was undeterred.

She used words like "lonely." And "drinks tonight" and "you need to get out of the house."

His answer was quick and abrupt. "I have someone. I have a family."

"But they left, right? They're gone."

He resented more that it was a statement and not a question.

His nostrils flared, his anger bubbling to the surface. "They're coming back."

"But she'll be going to prison." Not used to being rejected, she pushed buttons, not knowing how much danger she was putting herself in.

Something inside of him snapped. He felt rage boiling up from somewhere deep in his chest. He had never come so close to striking a female. Who was she to tell him what he needed? How dare she think that he would ever consider leaving Brennan? That he'd ever give up on his partner?

She could sense it now. Her eyes widened in fear. She took a step backwards, away from him.

An image of his partner flashed in his mind. Then his daughter's smile danced across his memory and he stopped.

His voice was still gruff, his teeth gritted together as he spoke. "I believe I told you that I wasn't interested."

And that's when the young, blonde clerk realized that what she had heard was the truth. Agent Booth was hopelessly and forever devoted to Dr. Brennan and no one was going to come between them.


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note: This was originally written as part of the 50 Shades of Booth and Brennan challenge, sponsored by Bonesology. The challenge was in celebration of Rynogeny's birthday. If you don't know Rynogeny, you should. Go now, follow her on Twitter. Or here on . And if you haven't read the other stories written for that challenge (all of which are amazing) then you need to check that out too! _

s/8440483/20/50_Shades_of_Booth_and_Brennan_Challenge

_I'm cross posting my story here because it does fit in with this series. Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys make my day every day you stop to leave your thoughts._

* * *

The days passed excruciating slow. Each hour seeming to take fifty years. The clock mocking her as it refuses to tick.

Eventually she stopped checking the time. It didn't matter. The morning passed from Mickey Mouse to Little Einsteins to Bunnytown. The afternoons go from Sesame Street to Jungle Junction to Dora. She usually doesn't watch television but these shows keep Christine entertained. Day in and day out, they watch. And they play. And she talks to her daughter. She loves her daughter. But she grows bored quickly without any intellectual stimulation.

The nights pass just as slowly. Dusk falls and then fades into blackness. She showers herself, and then she feeds and bathes Christine. (Who her father now insists that they call Cindee on the rare occasions they venture out in public.)

After their nightly rituals, she puts the baby to bed and usually follows close behind. Both of them falling asleep to the sound of Max watching some inane program. She grows to hate the show that he watches. She awakens multiple times each night. Her fear for their safety and her longing for her partner never allowing her a peaceful night's rest.

The weeks and months go by slowly as well. She tries to work on proving her innocence but her efforts are tempered by location and the complete lack of outside resources. So she spends a lot of time just thinking. Reliving everything that happened with Ethan's case. Trying to come up with something that she can tell her father. Something he could pass along to the team at The Jeffersonian.

May fades into June which melts into the July heat and before she realizes it, August has arrived. The passage of time unperceivable except for the changes in her growing infant. As September draws near she has resigned herself to their routine.

And she can't help but wonder what Booth has been doing with his summer.

B

B

B

B

B

B

B

Sundays blurred into Mondays that bled into Tuesdays. Every day the same.

He is asked to return to limited duty at work. At first he refuses. But as another week passes he tires of staring at the glowing numbers on a clock that isn't moving.

So he goes back.

But he doesn't find it much better. The paperwork seems endless. He finishes one stack only to have another piled onto his desk. It doesn't take long for him to bore of staring at his own handwriting. Every case seems the same from this perspective. He checks boxes and signs his name until his eyes begin to cross.

He doesn't eat lunch. He refuses to leave the office to join anyone for a meal. And it doesn't take long for everyone to quit asking. But every Tuesday, without fail, Cam drops by with a hot sandwich and fries from the diner.

Though he doesn't realize her consistency because the days no longer have names to him.

He works each night until his hand cramps and his mind fill with images and memories that he'd rather not think about. So he goes to the gym. He runs on the treadmill until his lungs ache and then he punches the bag until his knuckles bleed. Some nights he manages to forget. Mostly he can't help but remember.

When he does go home, he pulls out all the evidence that the have against Pelant and he studies. He reads the same files night after night, desperately hoping to catch something, anything, that everyone else has missed.

Nights when Parker calls are the only nights that he breaks his routine. He listens to his son ramble on about summer camp and baseball and other things eleven year old boys love. Neither of them ever mentions Temperance or Christine.

He knows this is Rebecca's idea. Because she tells him. She tells him that Parker misses his sister. That he asks every day if Temperance has come home yet. And when she adds a sincere, "I'm worried about you Seeley," he can't keep the tears out of his voice as he dismisses her concerns.

He counts the months only by observing Christine's birth date. And so spring turns into summer and he barely notices except that now he has to mow their lawn. He's thankful for the distraction.

And has September approaches he doesn't even notice that the grass no longer needs to be trimmed as often. Or that the sun is setting before eight now. Because the time doesn't matter when all he can do is remind himself to breathe until his girls come home. And that date will be one that he will never forget.


	20. Chapter 20

Christine's little mouth moved as if she were trying to mimic the sounds she heard her mother make.

"Par-ark-er," Brennan repeated again. Enunciating and elongating each syllable as she spoke. She said the word once more and continued to hold up a picture of Parker for the baby to see.

The little one erupted into fits of laughter as she slapped at the photograph.

Brennan wanted to believe that her daughter's exuberance was because she remembered. Because she knew who he was and she was reliving the nights she'd spent giggling at her brother making silly faces.

But she knew better.

Her child simply enjoyed watching the paper move as she struck it. Delighting in a simplicity only an infant could enjoy.

Brennan's heart ached at the memories, and her knowledge that Christine was far too young to realize the implications of the time they were missing. The time they should have been spending together. As a family.

She had grown accustomed having Parker in her life. She treasured the time they spent together and she found herself sad when he had to return to his mother. Brennan loved the way he made their house more joyful; how one kid could make the rooms fill with laughter.

And she loved the way Booth seemed so content with the world when Parker was with them. She loved watching them play catch in the back yard, she and Christine cheering along from the back porch. And she would always relish the how much he truly adored his sister.

She wondered if he knew.

If he understood why she had to run. Why she had to take his baby sister away from him.

Was he too young to be upset?

Or was he just old enough to never forgive her?

She promised herself that she'd make this up to him. Someday. While she was busy making it up to everyone else. She knew that she had a lot of asking for forgiveness to do once she returned.

She would start by ensuring that his sister did not forget him.

And so every day they practiced. She said his name over and over again. And they looked at his image while she told her daughter all about her big brother.

She told Christine about the first time she'd seen Parker, through the glass on a Christmas Eve when she learned that things weren't always as they seemed. About lunches at the diner and carousels in the park. Christmas trees on snowy nights, separated by prison walls. Cannonballs and ruined meatball subs on summer days.

Reunions at airports and love and happiness and all those things that Booth had promised her she deserved.

Christine was a captive audience. And as Brennan retrieved the picture from her daughter's newly merging molars she began to tell her everything they'd do together once they were reunited. Detailing every new memory she was intent on making with the boy she had grown to love.

If he'd only let her.


	21. Chapter 21

_AN: We're getting so close to the premiere now! I still want to try to write 30 of these before then and I have faith that I will. Even if that means quite a few updates in that last week/weekend before September 17th. Fair warning though, I do read all the spoilers that I can get my hands on and while I do not plan to include spoilers in these stories there is a chance that they might slip in. But if I don't tell you which things are spoilers and which I just made up, then you'll never know, will you? ;) _

_Thanks to threesquares for the premise of this one! _

* * *

Christine loved the ocean. She had inherited that from her mom, and the weeks they spent in North Carolina were their favorites.

It was a break from dirty, dusty motel rooms. They were staying in a small cottage right at the edge of the sea that was surrounded by water on three sides. A secluded peninsula created by waterways that snaked in from the Atlantic.

Schools were back in session and tourists had for the most part already left the area. They went back to begin their autumn routines; leaving their carefree summers behind on the shore.

But it was still August and the water was warm enough to allow the baby to splash in the waves. They had spent the morning building sand castles, Brennan getting lost in the scientific accuracy involved in constructing the perfect structure. Christine was content to spend hours digging in the sand with her chubby baby fingers. She loved creating patterns that made sense only to her infant brain.

Once the baby tired of playing in the sand, Brennan led her closer to the water. She sat at the line where the tide flowed in, holding the baby on her lap. They threw seashells into the water and Christine was delighted with the splash, while Brennan cherished each of her daughter's smiles and squeals of laughter.

High tide began to roll in around noon and the girls were caught off guard by a particularly rough wave. Brennan's quick actions kept them from being swept under but not from being soaked by the salty water. Christine squealed as the water crashed over them and Brennan laughed at her daughter's reaction.

Both of them, wearing huge smiles, worked their way back to their temporary dwelling. Brennan sang a song from one of the cartoons she'd been watching with her daughter during the summer as they walked and Christine hummed along. She'd laugh out loud each time her mom would bounce her on her hip.

As she settled into bed that night, the baby cuddled contently to her chest, she realized that it had been a good day.

That she was happy.

Then it hit her. She wasn't supposed to be happy. Not now. Not without Booth.

Her rational brain kicked in and reminded her that emotions were fluid. That it wasn't humanly possible to be sad continually. That her happiness today didn't mean that she had forgotten about him.

But her heart, the one he had so carefully cultivated and helped her grow, it was telling her differently. Her heart was reminding her that it was still broken. Chiding her for having the nerve to be happy when their world was crashing down upon them.

Before Booth her brain always won these arguments. But now they were so intertwined that she couldn't tell where her heart's thoughts stopped and his began. She was learning that connection was just as much a curse as it was a blessing.

She soothed Christine when she stirred in her sleep and she made herself a promise that she wouldn't be happy tomorrow.


	22. Chapter 22

She settled the baby in her lap while she positioned herself in front of the television. It was something she'd watched Booth do many times during basketball season. They sat though the pre-game show and the baby watched her mother intently as Brennan concentrated on the program.

"I am discouraged. I thought this show would have provided more of a tutorial on the subject." She scrunched up her nose and she laid aside the notebook she had readied in which to take notes as the commentators carried on about injury reports and pre-season trades between teams. "I find that I am very lacking in knowledge when it comes to football. I was hoping to be more prepared for the game."

She shifted Christine to her other leg as the athletes began to take their places on the field. "I find this commentary to be largely biased. I do know that we are to support the men that are wearing the yellow and black colored attire. Otherwise I do not want to give you any misinformation. Your father would not be pleased with me should that happen."

She chided herself for not paying closer attention during last year's football season. But she thought that sports were trivial and she'd typically had more important endeavors in which she could engage while Booth watched his games.

"Although I find that I have little understanding of what is occurring on the screen, I cannot deny that watching this particular event is increasing my desire to reunite with your father."

Christine gurgled happily, raising her little arms into the air just as the crowd began to cheer in the stadium. Brennan had to focus to realize that Booth's beloved Steelers had scored a touchdown. "Hmmm … perhaps it is genetic." Brennan laughed at herself for allowing such a foolish thought. "Or perhaps that was simply a coincidence."

The baby seemed mesmerized by the game. "Though I do suspect that your father will have you understanding the more simple contexts of the sport in just a few years." Christine clapped her little hands just as someone wearing yellow tackled one of the men in red. Brennan could not help but smile. "And in any case, he will certainly be proud that you appear to be cheering for his team."


	23. Chapter 23

"I know that this hasn't been easy Honey."

Max laid his hand on Brennan's shoulders and she stiffened underneath his touch.

"It wasn't easy back then for me and your mother. And it isn't easy now. Though this time it's been easier for me because I have you here with me."

His smile only served to upset her further. "I'm pleased to hear that you didn't find abandoning your adolescent children to be simple."

"Tempe, you know better than that. You know it was the only choice I had."

"I haven't forgiven you. Not fully."

"I know." There was no anger. It was a fact that he had accepted years ago.

"Will he forgive me? Can he?"

"There isn't a doubt in my mind."

"How can you be so sure?"

"A few months is a lot different than eighteen years."

"He loves me." It was such a simple statement but she said it with such emotion.

"Yes, he does. He loves 'you.' Not some glorified version of who he thinks you are. But the real you. He fell in love with a Brennan and he understands all the implications that brings with it."

"I don't understand."

"You. Like it or not. Are a Brennan. We fight for what we know is right. We don't lie down and take anything. We're unconventional, surprising, people. And that's where this Pelant guy made his mistake."

"Leaving home, coming with you, it was rational. My brain tells me that. But why does it have to be so painful?"

"All part of loving someone. It amplifies the good. And the bad, even worse."

"Booth has tried to teach me that and I used to believe that it wasn't worth the pain. Loving him, rebuilding a relationship with you, having a baby, that it just wasn't enough to face the chance of getting hurt."

"And now?"

"Now the thought of not loving him, of him not loving me? It's too much to bare." She leaned into her father's side as she whispered, "I just want to go home."

"Soon honey. Soon, I promise."


	24. Chapter 24

The phone was heavy in her hands. It's weight almost oppressive as she held the forbidden object.

She dialed the area code then stared at the numbers.

Glowing back at her from the screen, made bright by the darkness of the hotel room.

Her father was asleep in the bed across from where she sat. His soft snores a constant reminder that she was free to make the call.

She pressed the remaining buttons in the phone number. The cell she was using was disposable. Untraceable and only meant to be used once.

Her fingers hovered over the send button. One press of the single black key and she could hear his voice.

She wanted to make the call. She needed to make the call. She needed to feel connected to him again.

If only for the briefest of instants.

She rationalized that once he answered, once she heard his voice coming through the speaker on the phone that she would be satisfied. That she would end the call without speaking, without taking a chance on altering anyone to her whereabouts.

Was that really too much to ask?

She just needed to hear his voice.

She let her finger linger on the send button while she fought an internal battle with herself. And then she cleared the numbers from the screen and slipped the phone back into its hiding place.

Deciding that while it wasn't too much to ask; there was certainly too much at risk. Because if she heard his voice she knew that she would no longer be in control of her emotions and there wasn't room to take a chance that she'd say too much.


	25. Chapter 25

It's not the paperwork that gets to him. Not the way his lower back aches from sitting at a desk for hours on end or how his eyes begin to blur well before lunchtime. A result of staring at a computer screen. It isn't even the insult of seeing another agent making his office their own that really starts to break him.

It's not that the bullpen is stuffy or that he knows that they all pity him; the famous Seeley Booth being brought back down to their level.

It isn't any of these things.

The only thing that really upsets him is hearing her name. When he knows that their hushed conversations are centering on their misguided opinions of his partner.

They try hard to avoid his glare, to stay far from the reaches of his disappointed glanced because they all know he's a time bomb really to ignite.

Most of them don't believe that she's guilty.

At first.

But as time passes their faith in the anthropologist begins to flatter. She was a strange person.

And besides, the victim had threatened her daughter. As FBI agents they knew all too well that anyone was capable of murder given the right circumstances.

From what he overhears, they believe that her running meant that she was guilty. Otherwise why not stay and fight? She had unlimited resources; she could afford the best defense.

He becomes furious with his co-workers.

Don't they realize that she would have been killed had she stayed? That Pelant was able to pull strings in a way that defied their comprehension?

He resists the urge to grab them by their collars. To force them to understand. To tell them what he knows. That his partner ran because of their daughter. Because of him. That Temperance Brennan has a heart that was too big and too easily broken to ever do something so evil to someone she considered a friend. That she had never blamed Ethan for his delusional ramblings. That if either of them would have murdered the man for the threat, that it would have been him.

But he couldn't. Because he was already in enough trouble. Besides they wouldn't believe him. Unleashing his anger would only make the situation worse.

This would all be over soon, he reminded himself. And then they'd know. They'd understand that he had been right all along.


	26. Chapter 26

Pops drops by more often than usual.

Jared calls at least once each week.

Rebecca keeps making sure that he's okay.

He gets phone calls from colleagues: current and past. His and hers.

Sully.

Dr. Filmore.

Michael Stires.

Dr. Goodman.

Zack.

But one call he isn't expecting; isn't quite sure what to make of it.

Her voice on the line renders him speechless at first.

Her concern is obvious.

Things between them hadn't ended well but their feelings had been real. And they had been intense.

He had been willing to spend the rest of his life with her.

But she hadn't been willing to accept his offer.

And for that he would be forever grateful.

He keeps their conversation short. Thanks her for calling. Tries, but fails to keep the tears out of his voice.

"Temperance would never murder someone. Never."

There was a sincerity in her voice. An unmistakable sense of worry.

He wonders if Bones knows how many people care? The question only serves to make the tears come faster.

"I love you, Seeley."

He had almost forgotten they were still on the line as he let his sobs escape, unchecked. "I know," his voice hitches in his throat.

"But it's not the same is it? The same as it is with her?"

"Not at all." Despite his heartbreak, his confidence was impossible to miss.

"She'll be home soon. I promise."

And with that their conversation was over.

He feels like he has been punched in the gut by the regrets that stir inside of him. The endless parade of "what ifs" that are running through his mind. How close he had come to losing it all.

Brennan didn't see it that way. He knew that. She liked Hannah. She didn't hold anyone at fault for what had happened between the three of them.

It just was.

No one, himself included, understood that. No one, except for Brennan.

And the reminder of exactly who his partner is just amplifies his heartache.

* * *

_A birthday ficlet (TM JenaAlways) for my friend NatesMama, who didn't think I had the nerve to write a Hannah fic for this series. She obviously underestimated me. I hope this lives up to what she wanted to read. _

_Happy Birthday evil genius! _


	27. Chapter 27

_For alexindigo, because she asked and it sounded like an excellent idea. BTW, I don't think you're in quite the minority you think you are. ;) Hope you like this!_

* * *

"Sully?" Booth couldn't quite keep the surprise out of his voice. He hadn't heard from his former co-worker in years.

"Yeah, man, it's me, I just saw on the news. Is it true?"

"That she murdered that man? No, it's not true."

"I know that, I know that isn't true. But is it true that she's ran? That she's gone?"

"Yeah. Well, I guess. She didn't tell me. I think she wanted to protect me."

"What does she need?"

"Huh?"

"I'll help her. How can I get in contact with her? How can I help her? Money isn't an issue man. I came into quite a windfall a few years back."

Booth had heard. But money wasn't going to buy them out of this. "I guess she's with Max. If I knew how to get in contact with her, I wouldn't be sitting here."

"I'm sorry. This sucks Seeley."

"You're telling me?" He snickered.

"I guess I don't know what else to say."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you, I don't know what else to say either. I'm lost here. I don't know which way to turn."

"This is all pretty unbelievable Seel."

"Yeah, no kidding."

The silence on the line was too tense to stand, so Sully attempted to make small talk.

"I saw the birth announcement. Congratulations. I'm sure she's beautiful."

"Yeah, she is. Thanks."

"Does she look like Tempe?"

"Luckily, yeah."

"Knew you two would end up together. Hell we all did."

"You win any money in the pool?"

"Not one cent." The two men exchanged a tense laugh then Sully quickly returned to the previous emotion of the conversation.

"I'm here, okay. Anything, anything at all. You let me know. Either side of the law. Tempe doesn't deserve this. And neither do you. Or that little girl."

"I appreciate that, it means more than you know."

"Either side of the law. I meant that."

"I heard you. Keep in touch, I might just need to take you up on that. We're up against something big here. Maybe something too big."


	28. Chapter 28

_AN: Thanks to someonetookmyname for the prompt and the beta job!_

_ Almost done guys! Which means it's almost time for the premiere! Anyone else excited? _

* * *

She can't say that she cries often during their separation.

Because she's Temperance Brennan. And she doesn't cry.

Except she does.

Because Temperance Brennan isn't the same person she was before.

Before Christine.

Before Booth.

Before life became complicated.

But still every time the emotion hits her, it's a shock.

This time it was a key that caused the tears to fall.

It had fallen deep into a corner of Christine's polka dot diaper bag; buried beneath diapers and pacifiers and the baby's favorite toys. The only ones she'd had time to pack. Covered in the remnants of discarded crackers.

It was just a key, she rationalized. It shouldn't be capable of inducing such sadness. She was much too rational for that.

But it wasn't just a key.

It was _their_ key.

The key to their home.

It was a lifeline.

An entire plethora of memories.

It was a symbol of who she had become.

It was them.

It was Booth.

She'd learned not to try and stop the tears. It was better when she allowed them to flow.

Christine reaches up to wipe at the moisture she sees on her mother's face. Babies are intuitive, which is made clear as the baby offers an uncertain, "Ma?"

The tears start to slow as she places the key back into the bag; handling it with the care usually reserved for fine porcelain.

Her daughter's continued demands for attention mean that she can't allow herself to dwell on her emotions any longer.

Besides, she doesn't cry.


	29. Chapter 29

She was a good mom. She was becoming a more dutiful daughter. She was a devoted partner; an excellent lover.

She was also Dr. Temperance Brennan.

She had known since she had first lain eyes on her child that she could never stop being a mother. Besides; Christine was with her. The circumstances weren't ideal but she was still a good mom.

And no amount of time or space could ever stop her from loving Booth. Nor could it stop Booth from loving her. She had empirical evidence from their past to guarantee her of that.

But still she wasn't whole. Her life was missing a vital component.

She couldn't hold the bones of the dead in her hands. She couldn't dig for their secrets and uncover their truths. She couldn't bring them the justice they deserved. Not now, not while her hands were tied by the very system that she had for so long believed in.

She felt as if she were losing her mind. That was she slipping away from being at the pinnacle of her profession. That without practice, she was losing the superior intellect that had allowed her to awe everyone in her path. Though, she reasoned, she may have misused the metaphor.

She couldn't function properly without that part of herself. It was who she was. She was Bones.

Not being able to be that person was like severing a limb. The blood loss was immediate and the flow wasn't slowing with time.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could survive.


	30. Chapter 30

"_Pink."_

"_Toupe."_

"_Light pink."_

"_White."_

"_Pale pink."_

"_How is that any different than light pink?"_

"_She's a baby Bones. They like bright colors." He paused, reconsidering his tactics. "Anthropologically speaking babies who are surrounded by color have a greater chance of excelling in several intellectual areas."_

_She scrunched up her nose at his hopeful look. "You just made that up, didn't you?"_

"_Yes, I did. But it sounds good, right?"_

"_I cannot agree to let you paint our progeny's room pink. It only lends undue credence to outdated gender bias." _

_After an abbreviated staring contest they both returned to looking through the paint chips that were thrown around her kitchen table._

_Their eyes seem to fall on the chip at the same time._

"_This one," they said in unison._

A car horn blared outside the window, jarring Booth back to reality. He was sitting in the rocking chair in his daughter's room; the yellow walls mocking him with immeasurable memories, each one more painful than the last.

.

.

.

Their argument over matte or gloss; in the middle of the paint store.

.

.

Her insistence that, if adequately ventilated, her being in the room while he and Wendell painted would not be harmful to the baby.

.

.

The "accidental" drop of yellow she got in his hair when she helped despite his attempts to stop her.

.

.

The run to pick up more paint because they had ended up wearing half a gallon on their clothes.

.

.

Sitting on the floor of the unfinished room, eating pizza from what she called "un-environmentally friendly" paper plates, because they hadn't moved their dishes in yet.

.

.

That first night they brought Christine home. Brennan catching him standing by the crib; mesmerized by their daughter's tiny presence.

.

.

.

Booth turned on the mobile that Parker had built for his sister. He walked back to the rocking chair, his head still filled with images of his partner and their daughter. The mobile playing its sweet lullaby.

"Damn," the word escaped his mouth, falling unheard into the empty room.

* * *

_I can't believe I actually made it to 30! Wow. Thank all of you for reading and for your reviews, they have made my summer._ _I have reached my goal here but I'm not finished. Expect four more of these ficlets this weekend, with number 34 posting right before the premiere airs on the east coast. (Now is that a warning or a good thing? ;))_


	31. Chapter 31

_Thanks to Jena for the prompt and the beta. Reason #447 why I love my Twitter friends!_

* * *

It took three weeks before he found the note.

Because it was three weeks before he bothered to do the laundry. Before mundane tasks even entered into his consciousness. Prior to that he was simply existing.

He almost threw the pants into the washer without checking the pockets, but the piece of white sticking out from his jeans caught his attention and he stopped just short of tossing them into the water.

He didn't make a habit of storing papers in his pants and his mind raced with possibilities as he unfolded the notebook paper. He leaned against the washing machine as he read.

The note wasn't signed but it didn't need to be. It had been scrawled in her unmistakably precise handwriting. It was short. But it was enough to make tears leap into his eyes and leave him grateful that he hadn't accidently destroyed her words.

.

.

.

_I promise we'll come back to you. We love you so much. I'm sorry. _


	32. Chapter 32

_Thanks to MegWill for the prompt and for taking her Friday night to review nearly every chapter of this story. You made my day! Two more after this._

_Happy Bones-day Eve everyone!_

* * *

He had almost forgotten that he had it.

He had found it once the FBI returned his cell phone after searching it for evidence. He was grateful that they hadn't erased any of his files because it was the most comforting reminder of them that he had.

He pressed play and watched as the still image of his family came to life on the tiny screen that he held in his hands.

Brennan sitting cross legged on the floor of their living room, holding Christine upright on her legs while Parker blew raspberries onto his sister's stomach. The baby's happy squeals echoed from his phone, his partner's distinctive laugh filled the room along with his son's deepening voice. "Come on Dad! Help me get them!"

The video ended shortly after that as Brennan had handed the baby off to Booth before launching her own tickle attack on Parker.

He couldn't count how many times he had watched the thirty second clip in the past month and he didn't care what that said about his psychological state. All he knew was they were his. This was his family. And he was going to make damn sure that they were able to be this happy again.


	33. Chapter 33

_Consider this little ficlet a prequel to the first chapter of this series. Thanks to Jena for the prompt and the beta! _

.

.

.

Her father told her that there wasn't much time. They had to leave as soon as possible.

She negotiated with him to leave after the christening. Because Booth deserved that. She understood what her plans were going to do to him and if she were going to inflict that type of pain the least she could do was give him this last memory to hold on to.

Her dad had packed their bags and stowed them in the borrowed car while she had kept Booth occupied. But she needed to get the items that would sustain her through their separation. The items that Max would never think to choose.

Taking photos out of their frames would be too obvious and it would take too much time. So she swiped the ones off of their refrigerator and hoped that Booth didn't discover them gone until after they'd left. Otherwise, he would ask questions that she couldn't answer.

While Booth was busy loading the baby into her carrier, she rushed upstairs to find something else to take with them. Something that she and her daughter could have to hold close while they were away. She turned in slow circles in the middle of their bedroom floor.

She had never felt quite as uncertain about anything as she did at that this moment.

She was busy looking in the bathroom, desperately searching for something that would hold meaning for them later, when she heard his voice call from downstairs. Knowing that she was out of time, she grabbed his t-shirt from the shelf and stuffed it into her oversized bag. He wore it nearly every night.

Her possessions carefully hidden she walked down the stairs to meet him. She hoped her facial expressions didn't give her away. Hoped that he attributed any pain he saw in her features to fear of turning herself in. It took all the strength she had left not to cry when he ushered her out the door with his arm around her shoulders.

Booth had been the one to teach her that we could find strength from intrinsic objects and Booth was usually right about such things.

She trusted him now. Trusted that somehow she could harness his strength through an old shirt and a handful of photographs.

Because in a couple of hours, that was going to be all she had left.

.

.

.

_AN: Last year's finale was very painful for me to watch. I can usually re-watch Bones episodes endlessly, but in this case it hurt too much to sit through it again and instead of watching, I wrote._

_The response I received to these stories was much more than I expected. And I thank each of you for reviewing even though I wasn't writing a full-fledged story. You allowed me to play with the angst, to dwell in the pain without ever developing an actual plot or worrying about connecting all the pieces. For enabling me to write through the hiatus without having to compete with the true hiatus fics out there. Some of which were beyond brilliant. _

_The original plan was to write thirty of these. I decided to expand that to thirty two to coincide with my age BUT last week I asked for three more prompts on Twitter and was given over a dozen. They were all excellent and I couldn't resist doing what I could with them, and so this story ended up with thirty four chapters._

_One more tomorrow shortly before the premiere begins on the east coast. Thank you for reading! _


	34. Chapter 34

_One last ficlet. Happy Bones-day everyone! _

_._

_._

_._

* * *

Booth held his partner tightly against his side, inhaling her scent. Letting his hand knead the muscles of her back. She shifted closer against him, sighing contently in his arms, as she drifted off to sleep.

It was finally over.

Lying in their bed, their daughter sleeping safely in the next room, their world pieced solidly back together. A band-aid placed metaphorically over their wounds.

They could never get back what Pelant had stolen from them. The summer was over and they weren't going to get a do over.

But that was okay.

Because they were together now. They were a family. They were still: them.

And their future began now.


End file.
